


Brief Musings of a Mage

by deadgranger



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Community: HPFT, Drabbles, Drama, F/M, M/M, Romance, Seven Deadly Sins, Sexual Content, Substance Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadgranger/pseuds/deadgranger
Summary: A series of drabbles centered around the seven deadly sins and various characters from the Witcher series.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Kudos: 3





	1. Lust

It started out as simple admiration for the Witcher; admiration for the way he could so easily weave his magic into his attacks and defensive moves as he battled an arcane creature; admiration for his wit, however brief our conversations were. When he started coming to me for healing spells, it became admiration for his strength, his willpower, and his physique. Everything fell apart after that. 

I suppose I should have known better than to get intimately involved with the White Wolf, but I couldn’t resist. We fell into bed at nearly every meeting we had where he wasn’t severely injured. His gentle caresses turn into rough play with the blink of an eye and it’s like I’m drowning in him, in his touch, in his eyes, and it sends me off the precipice every time. 

My yearning grew after each night we spent together, tangled in each other, but it was never enough. He would leave on another hunt, and I’d reach after him, hoping for one more night, one more fuck. I can’t get him out of my head but I’d rather have him between my legs. I’d rather have him; with him, I finally feel something. 


	2. Sloth

After leaving Geralt on the mountain after the search for the dragon, Jaskier felt lost. Months passed, and he wandered the continent, half-heartedly performing just to get enough coin to eat and have somewhere to sleep at night. His journal was filled with scribbled out song lyrics and half-finished apology notes to Geralt. Not even an invitation to a local lord’s castle one night for an evening of revelry and good beer could cheer him up past the necessary facade he put up to get through the night. 

He brought his lute with him out of pure habit, but could barely muster enough energy to play the song that’d made him and Geralt truly famous, and pleaded to be seated once more after that rendition was over. Jaskier spent the next week listlessly wandering through the towns around the mountains, caring not one whit about his appearance or of the appearance of scorned lovers or lovers’ partners. 

Everything felt wrong, felt topsy-turvy, felt incomplete, felt worthless without Geralt and Roach guiding him to their next journey together. Jaskier felt purposeless, and didn’t know what to do next, not without Geralt.


	3. Wrath

She’d never felt such rage before, such raw, all-encompassing power surge through her directed at these men who thought they’d stand in her way. The magic flowed through her of its own volition, her mouth speaking words she didn’t know as the raging magic attacked the men. Whips of glittery magic opened cuts on their faces, arms, torsos, legs, each gash streaming with blood. 

Her white-blonde hair became a halo around her head, the air charged with static electricity as she let out a primal scream. The men covered their ears but to no avail; her power and anger was too strong; blood began pouring out of their ears through their gloved fingers. They collapsed to the ground, unconscious, slowly dying, and Ciri’s power was relinquished from her. 

Ciri’s pulse beat loudly in her ears, rage forcing her to step forward, step past them, step always forward, to her destiny. No one should, could, would get in her way. She had power enough to stop them if they dared to try. 


	4. Pride

Even though people will sing my praises for slaying the monster ravaging their town, I’m never proud of what I’ve done, what the world now no longer has. And then, Jaskier wrote that damned song, and suddenly there’s a monster for me to dispatch down every dark alley or twisty cave entrance. The money was fine but the things which I was sought after to mercilessly kill became less and less worth my time. 

I never asked to become a Witcher. I never asked to be transformed with herbs and magic against my will. I never asked to survive the transformation. I never asked to be good at my job. 

I never asked to be expected to be lauded for killing a nuisance beast by the general public while also being repulsive to those same people in the next breath. 

Having pride for being one of the last remaining Witchers? No, I don’t feel pride about that either. The only thing I feel is loss and resentment at my choices being taken away from me. Pride isn’t a feeling I’ll ever know, probably, and I’ve made my peace with that. I’ve had to. 


	5. Gluttony

I should have stopped drinking after the last drops of my eighth glass of my favorite dark red wine passed over my lips, my vision going blurry, but it was the only thing keeping away thoughts of him. Our last meeting and subsequent parting began with our usual hungry fuck and several drinks. It ended with a screaming match about my dependency on wine and his dependency on me for a quick fuck whenever he needed it. 

Needless to say I’ve been drinking constantly since that morning four days ago. I was as dependent on my wine as I was on him, and when I couldn’t have him, the wine numbed me until I couldn’t feel anything. 

I’d hear him in my head as I reached for a new bottle, begging me, “Yen, please don’t do this,” but then he’s gone and I’m alone and needing to feel nothing. Triss sometimes joins me, for her guilt and her desire to feel nothing mirrors mine. 

We drown in the wine and bathe in its sweet release from our pain and desires. 


	6. Greed

Geralt could only watch as Yennefer continued to risk her life to gain more power, more wealth, more beauty, to become the most powerful sorceress on the continent. The next time he went to her, doubtless he’d find some new expensive jewels and trinkets she’d been gifted, paid, or collected on display, either on her mantle or on her body. She reveled in wearing the latest fashions, or creating her own to better accentuate her curves and drip everything in precious stones and gems. 

He didn’t understand how she could desire all of those things and have a place to store them, yet still want to be with him, a man who rarely had more coin than what was enough for a hot meal, beer, and a room to stay overnight and stable Roach. 

She didn’t understand why he didn’t ask for more, or want for more than just what he carried on Roach, or why he didn’t have a place to call home. 

Perhaps this was why their meetings were always so intense -- a strong sexual connection that lacked in common basic desires and needs. She shrugged the thought away and continued inventorying her massive jewelry collection. 


	7. Envy

Triss always knew when Yennefer had recently been with Geralt when the sorceresses had their frequent meetings to discuss the worldly happenings at large. She noticed how Yennefer’s clothing made sure to reveal any parts of her body that he’d marked; she noticed how her eyes sparkled more, how she spoke with more candor and with less nicety. What Geralt saw in Yennefer, Triss didn’t quite know, other than that she was sure the sex was great, otherwise he wouldn’t continue going to her. 

She’d had her time with the Witcher, in Kaer Morhen and for many months after that, but it wasn’t enough. But now, now she just had to sit here and take it while Yennefer flaunted her relationship with him in front of her in the most antagonistic way possible. 

Was it so bad for Triss to want some of that fire, some of that connection, some of that love, from Geralt? 

She saw Yennefer, and she hated her for what she used to have and no longer did, all because of the raven-haired sorceress sitting across from her. But at the same time, she also wished to be in her place, if just for a moment. 


End file.
